Daydreamers
by Jackie-the-barricade-girl
Summary: As a young boy, Prouvaire never really fit in with the kids his age. He was always afraid of what people would think of him…so, likewise, he stayed in the shadows…though, after he and his parents move to Paris, he finds himself growing close to a group of rather strange boys who dream of nothing but revolution and freedom. Young Amis setting


Daydreamers

As a young boy, Prouvaire never really fit in with the kids his age. He was always afraid of what people would think of him…so, likewise, he stayed in the shadows…though, after he and his parents move to Paris, he finds himself growing close to a group of rather strange boys who dream of nothing but revolution and freedom

**Written for a friend of mine who challenged me to write this**

BROSHIPS Courfeyrac/Jehan, Enjolras/Grantaire, Joly/Lesgle

Age list:

Prouvaire – 10

Feuilly – 13

Courfeyrac – 11

Enjolras – 12

Grantaire – 13

Combeferre – 14

Marius – 11

Joly – 12

Lesgle – 14

"_I was considering home schooling…but I want the boy to learn how to make new friends. Part of education is to learn how to socialise with those of your interests. Jean, he just needs some time to settle down. He's nearly eleven years. He's not a baby anymore."_

"_Oh but I do worry for the boy…he's not like the other children his age. He hardly ever speaks…just spends his time staring up at the sky. What if this isn't just a phase? What if the lad stays like this for the rest of his days?"_

"_He'll learn in his own time…he's just a late bloomer, that's all."_

Jehan sat upon an oak tree stump, unconsciously tracing his fingertips over the patterns on the bark. As he did so, he watched a flock of beautiful white birds fly across the blue canvas of the sky.

_I like the sky…it's beautiful, isn't it? It holds so much glory within its layers. First, there's the sun. It sets its glorious rays onto the world, lighting the darkness that is hidden within everyone. Not that there's anything wrong with darkness…I do love the night. Without darkness, we would never see the stars. They are like the jewels of the sky, or the diamonds of the heavens. And of course, there's the moon. The moon…she's my favourite...she shines her light so bright through the darkest of nights. She's always been there with me. I love her with every inch of my aching will. My first love was the moon…and I pray she will stay in my heart until the day of my death._

_Sometimes I wish I was a little more normal…well, maybe not normal…just a little more like everyone else around here…they all call me weird and out of my mind…that's why we moved to Paris. Mother worries too much about my wellbeing…why can't you just be like other children Jean?_

_The thing is, people don't understand the way I see things…I see beauty in everything…I also see darkness in everything. My father says I'm a 'daydreamer'. It's true. My mind wonders from my head every now and then…but there's nothing wrong with that._

_Is there?_

* * *

Madame White was a young and rather youthful looking teacher. Her ginger hair was tied back into a tight bun at the back of her head. She shot a short smile at Jehan as she stood from her writing desk.

The class was in complete and utter commotion. Paper planes flew across the room and young lads chatted to one another about their weekends. It was like a battlefield. What worried Jehan the most, was that the class seemed very much divided. Where was his place in this gang of uproar? Madame White called the class to silence and within a matter of seconds, the children were seated beneath their desks, arms crossed and eyes up front. Not a sound could be heard. It gave a kind of military feel to the room.

"Everyone," Madame White began, her eyes darting about the room, checking no one was absent. She then clapped a hand against Jehan's shoulder, making him wince in surprise. "This is Jean Prouvaire, your newest addition. He shall be joining us for the next year or so." The young children stared at Jehan, judging him by his cover, already deciding whether he were a friend or foe. Jean had been through this one too many times to be embarrassed by the eying classmates. "Why don't you go sit over at the back, Prouvaire?" Madame White ushered the boy to his seat. He awkwardly walked down to the back row.

As he sat, Madame White began to talk about something that Jehan had no real interest in, so, likewise, he began tapping his finger against the desktop and looking aimlessly across the room.

The boy sat next to him seemed to be eyeing him for no good reason. He was rather tall and probably a year or so older than Jehan. His hair was a mess of auburn curls and his eyes were a light hazel colour. After a moment or two, he tapped Prouvaire on the shoulder, making the younger boy jump in slight surprise. "Hey, Jean is it?" he whispered, so not to catch the attention of Madame White.

"I actually go by Jehan." He corrected.

The boy raised an eyebrow at him. "Jehan? What's wrong with Jean?"

"…I feel it more suits my poetry." He replied simply.

"You're a writer?" Jehan didn't give a direct reply. The other man shrugged and let the topic slide. "I'm Mateo Courfeyrac. People call me by my last name, though, I honestly couldn't care less." Courfeyrac abruptly turned to the young boy sitting on his other side. He gave him a short whack on the forearm to grab his attention. The boy furrowed his brow in annoyance. He was a rather skinny lad, especially compared to Courfeyrac. He had several freckles on his cheeks and light brown hair that added a more simple touch. "Jehan, this is Mon Ami Pontmercy."

"Pleasure to meet you." Marius said with a tip of the head. Jehan merely smiled in response. "You're not from Paris are you?" Jehan shook his head.

"Well, it's not exactly paradise." Courfeyrac uttered under his breath.

"Mateo, Marius, pay attention!" Madame White called from the front of the class, smacking her wooden ruler against the edge of her desk.

"Sorry Madame." They both said in unison, turning their heads down to face their desks.

**Trial chapter to see if this is any good :D**


End file.
